by Rod Rees
‘As you wish, HimPerial Secretary. Kondratieff is intent on creating a replica of the Column of Loci and it is this replica that will soon be en route to the Temple of Lilith. The replica is, in fact, a bomb, which Kondratieff intends to detonate on Lammas Eve, destroying the Doge IMmanual—’
‘And all the other guests gathered there,’ interjected Pobedonostsev, ‘guests who will include Shaka Zulu and his court, and that upstart Duke William.’ The man could hardly keep the excitement out of his voice: he loathed Shades almost as much as he loathed woeMen.
‘Excellent,’ murmured Crowley. ‘That will be a fearsome blow struck in the cause of Aryan supremacy.’ A sip of his Solution. ‘And what, Nearchus, will be the fate of the real Column?’
‘Here Kondratieff was evasive, but, as his housekeeper was amenable to bribery, I was able to have sight of his confidential notebooks. I can tell you that the genuine Column will be taken to Terror Incognita where forces opposed to the ForthRight will seek to erect it on top of the Great Pyramid. For what reason I have no idea, but I do know he intends to approach Su Xiaoxiao and the SheTong to help him do this.’
‘Su Xiaoxiao!’ Crowley sneered. ‘That troublemaker, though I doubt that after the invasion of the Coven by the ForthRight army either she or her ninja hooligans will be in any condition to assist Kondratieff in this endeavour. But we must be wary. Be aware, Nearchus, that the placing of the Column on the summit of the Great Pyramid is an occult act of enormous metaphysical significance, so much so that it is vital – vital – that it is performed only by those loyal to the True Religion, UnFunDaMentalism. Tell me, Nearchus, how will the real Column be taken to Terror Incognita?’
‘In a second pontoon currently being constructed in my shipyard. The plan is that Su Xiaoxiao will seize a steamship capable of towing the pontoon, sail it to the harbour on the Isle of Murano on the final day of Summer …’
‘Lammas Eve,’ observed Pobedonostsev somewhat unnecessarily.
‘… take the pontoon containing the real Column under tow and bring it to Terror Incognita.’
‘Where does Su Xiaoxiao believe she can find such a steamship?’
‘The plan is that she will steal it from the ForthRight.’
Crowley scratched his chin as he pondered what Nearchus had said. ‘This presents us with an opportunity to take the Column. When, in your opinion, would it be best to intercept the pontoon?’
‘It would be imprudent for the ForthRight Navy to attempt to take the Column whilst it is in Venice. If they were spotted by NoirVillian or Venetian shore batteries …’ Nearchus left the sentence unfinished; the power of the guns sited along the banks of the Nile was famous throughout the Demi-Monde. ‘My advice would be to allow Su Xiaoxiao to steal the steamship, take the real Column under tow and for the ForthRight Navy to intercept the pontoon when it is en route to Terror Incognita, ideally at the junction of the Nile and the Wheel, at a point beyond the range of the shore batteries.’
‘And that is just what we will do,’ announced Crowley, rewarding his decisiveness with a swig of Solution. ‘You have done well, Nearchus. This is an ABBA-sent opportunity to rid the Demi-Monde of two of the most formidable enemies of UnFunDaMentalism, Shaka Zulu and Doge IMmanual, and to ensure that the Column of Loci is in the possession of those who follow the True Religion.’
An enthusiastic nod from Pobedonostsev. ‘That is so, Your Holiness. It will only remain to destroy the Crown Prince Xolandi, and the Shades in NoirVille will be leaderless and hence ripe for elimination. And once their fate has been settled, it will be the turn of the JAD and the nuJu scum squatting there to be scoured from the face of the Demi-Monde.’
‘The Final Solution will be in our grasp,’ Crowley smarmed.
‘The Final Solution,’ Pobedonostsev breathed as he raised his glass, and the other two men joined him in his toast. ‘To a wholly Blank world, where UnderMentionables have been exterminated and where woeMen are content in their ABBA-ordained role as subordinate helpmates to Men.’
Part Four
The Battle for the Coven
In the Coven, Her Eticalism preaches an abhorrance of the sexual objectifying of Femmes. In response clothing designer Jiang Qing introduced the all-in-one boiler suit which has become the ‘jiang.’ This imprecation for restraint does not apply in the Forbidding City and hence the NoNs (eunuchs) there parade in opulent splendour.
23
Rangoon
The Demi-Monde: 35th Day of Summer, 1005
The greatest designer of armoured steamers is undoubtedly Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the genius behind the IKB class of Metropolitan Pacification Steamers that have become the armoured steamer of choice for all governments within the Demi-Monde. So it is little surprise that the SS-Ordo Templi Aryanis’s Materiel and Munitions Commissariat approached Brunel’s company – Pantechnicons of Distinction (London) Limited – to design and manufacture a new breed of river steamer. And the results of this collaboration were revolutionary. The Monitor-class armoured fighting vessel is without peer in the quest for river supremacy.
Excerpt from article entitled ‘The Final Frontier: Riverine Warfare in the Second Millennium’: The ForthRight Engineer, Fall 1004
By Trixie’s estimation, the ForthRight’s bombardment of Rangoon was far heavier and more intense than any she’d endured during the Siege of Warsaw. And it wasn’t just the quantity of the shells that fell in a never-ending stream on the poor sods skulking in the ruins of the city, the calibre of the guns was bigger too; if she wasn’t mistaken, the UnFunnies were using siege mortars. The shells were so heavy that every time one fell near the concrete redoubt she was using as her command headquarters, the whole place shook and a trail of dust drifted down from the ceiling, thickening the dank atmosphere and coating everyone cowering there with a frosting of beige powder.
But Trixie’s biggest concern wasn’t with the shaking of the redoubt: to her stunned surprise, her hands had started shaking too.
After the weeks of bombardment she’d endured in Warsaw she’d thought she was immune to the terror of an artillery barrage, but it seemed not. She jumped every time she felt the vibrating impact of an explosion, and worse, thirty-odd days on since the first shell had landed, her nerves were shredded. Now all she felt like doing was curling up in a ball, closing her eyes, stuffing her fingers in her ears and pretending this wasn’t happening … wasn’t happening to her again.
Not that she could allow herself to show fear. She was a general and generals couldn’t display the same weaknesses as ordinary soldiers. But it was difficult: the shelling never relented, pummelling the city twenty-four hours a day. Clement had learnt from the debacle of the Warsaw Uprising and was obviously intent on holding his invasion back until both Rangoon and its defenders had been flattened.
And now that moment had come. Just a few minutes shy of dawn on the thirty-fifth day of the war, the bombardment had paused, indicating that the ForthRight attack was imminent and the UnFunnies were preparing to launch their invasion barges against Rangoon. In a few short hours the fate of the Coven would be settled. This was Trixie’s moment of truth.
She took a deep breath, trying to get control of herself. This was one of those times when she missed Wysochi the most; missed his strength, his courage and his certainty.
‘Status of the WarJunks?’ she snapped towards her Chief of Staff, pleased that her voice didn’t betray her fear.
Efficient as ever, CommanderNon Jiao Yu gave her an immediate update. ‘We have had semaphore messages from AdmiralNoN Zheng Heii advising that the WarJunks MostBien, Wu, Dark, Borgia and Ptah are in position a few hundred metres from Hub Bridge Number Four. They are just fifteen minutes’ steaming time from Rangoon.’
Trixie sighed: five WarJunks wasn’t enough. Intelligence reported that Clement had twenty of the ForthRight’s new Monitors patrolling the Volga, and, though the considered opinion amongst naval experts was that the Coven’s WarJunks were more powerful and tougher than the Monitors, odds
of four to one were simply too great to be overcome.
‘Send a signal that Heii is to hold his position. Inform him the invasion is anticipated to begin within the hour, and when the order is given to attack, he is to concentrate his assault on the enemy’s drifter barges. His first priority is the destruction of the troop transports.’
Jiao Yu relayed the order and a communicationsFemme began pulling the levers that operated the semaphore.
‘Are the rocket batteries in position?’
Jiao Yu bowed. ‘Seven batteries are in position and their rockets are ready to be launched at your command, General-Femme. I must respectfully report that the eighth has been destroyed by enemy artillery fire.’
Trixie nodded. She didn’t need anybody to tell her that: she’d seen the fireworks display from the observation port of her bunker. The prematurely ignited rockets had created mayhem as they whizzed around like demented comets before smashing into the ground and turning the downtown district of Rangoon with its tightly packed wooden houses into an inferno. It was the one time Trixie had been pleased to see the rains: she simply didn’t have enough fighters to bring the blaze under control. If the rain didn’t douse the flames, then Rangoon would just have to burn.
‘How many salvoes of rockets do we have?’
‘Five per battery. Each salvo will constitute twenty rockets.’
Trixie made a quick calculation: seven batteries, five salvoes, twenty rockets per salvo, giving a total of seven hundred rockets, each with a warhead of one hundred kilos of high explosive. Seventy tons of death and destruction plummeting down on the UnFunnies. Impressive, but again, not enough. If each battery had fifty salvoes, then, maybe, she could smash the UnFunnies’ invasion barges where they were berthed and end the invasion before it began, but all five salvoes would do was discomfort the invasion fleet.
Trixie gave a rueful smile: she didn’t want to discomfort the UnFunnies, she wanted to kill the bastards. This was her time to take revenge for all the suffering and pain Heydrich and his cronies had inflicted on her and her family.
‘You will hold your fire until I give the word and then concentrate your fire along the St Petersburg docks. I want to burn the barges when they are packed with StormTroopers.’
Another bow from the NoN. Jiao Yu was a good soldier; he would do his duty and, more importantly, would do what she fucking told him to do. She was just thankful that all the NoN officers had accepted her appointment with similar grace, but unfortunately it had been different with the female officers. There had been more than a little bitching in the Femme ranks when she had been elevated to command the Covenite army, and there were no bigger bitches than the Trung sisters currently standing sullen and silent in the corner of the bunker.
Let ‘em stew.
Now for the key question. ‘Status of the Geek Fire?’
This was the Coven’s ace in the hole. Jiao Yu seemed to brighten a little: he had obviously been as impressed by the weapon as Trixie had. ‘Everything is in order, GeneralFemme Dashwood. All five of the reservoirs are full and all the siphons are ready to discharge immediately you give the order.’
‘I understand that one of the siphon valves – the one controlling the reservoir nearest to the Anichkov Bridge – is giving problems.’
‘I have had Leading EngineerNoN Li Chang check the valve and he has pronounced it fully operational.’
‘Good.’
BANG! Another mortar shell landed nearby and Trixie had to pause to let the reverberation of the huge explosion dissipate. Absent-mindedly she brushed concrete dust from her jiangs and was pleased to see her hand had stopped shaking. ‘You must understand, CommanderNoN, that I intend to deploy the Geek Fire after the first wave of invasion barges has landed.’
Even Jiao Yu’s formidable inscrutability was tested by this pronouncement. ‘With the greatest of respect, GeneralFemme Dashwood, it is against all the precepts of war to allow an invading army to gain a foothold—’
‘We are heavily outnumbered, CommanderNoN Jiao Yu, and the only way we will defeat the enemy is by securing local superiority. By allowing the enemy to land and then deploying the Geek Fire we will be able to destroy the barges intended to reinforce the first assault and leave the troops who have already made shore vulnerable to counter-attack.’
‘The evacuation of civilians from the western side of Rangoon has still not been completed, GeneralFemme; I am concerned that these tactics will lead to a great many casualties. The fighting around the landing points will be fierce.’
Trixie took a deep breath. This was one of those moments when a military commander had to be hard-hearted, when the few had to be sacrificed for the greater good. ‘I know, but we have no alternative. The Empress has decreed that the gates in the Great Wall are to remain closed, so there is nowhere for refugees to go to escape the fighting.’
One of Jiao Yu’s eyebrows twitched as he registered the veiled criticism of the Empress. ‘It is the belief of Her Majesty that should the gates be opened, those in Rangoon and Tokyo will fight with less enthusiasm. She has ordered that there can be no retreat: the army and the people must understand that if the enemy is victorious, they will die.’
Trixie said nothing. It was unbelievably callous of the Empress to leave her people to suffer like this. And not only callous, it was, in her opinion, bad strategy. The panicked civilian population of Rangoon and Tokyo were already making her army’s work difficult, and anyway, she knew from her time in Warsaw that soldiers who were worried about the fate of their loved ones didn’t have their mind on killing the enemy.
‘I understand. And that’s why we must not let the enemy advance beyond their initial landing grounds. We must destroy them on the shores of the Volga. I am relying on you, CommanderNoN Jiao Yu.’
Again Jiao Yu bowed his acceptance of the order, even as a signalFemme handed him a message.
‘It appears, GeneralFemme Dashwood, that the first of the barbarians’ invasion barges has been observed preparing to leave its moorings.’
‘Then fire the rockets.’
At precisely seven in the morning the order came down to Comrade Captain John Worden that he had the honour of leading the assault on Rangoon. It was a proud moment for Worden and he had to fight hard to stop himself whooping with excitement as he shouted his instructions to the officers of the ForthRight Fighting Ship, the FFS Heydrich, ordering the vessel to go to action stations. But it wasn’t just a proud moment: it was also a historic one. The Heydrich was the first Monitor-class ironclad ever deployed by the ForthRight Navy and Worden was determined that, come Hel or high water, he would prove worthy of the honour he had been given in commanding her.
Caught by the tide, the Heydrich rolled against her moorings and Worden had to steady himself against a guard rail. Designed to sit menacingly low in the water – most of her bulk sat below the waterline safe from enemy fire – the Heydrich was a bitch of a ship to handle, especially in an ebb tide. Beautiful she wasn’t, graceful she wasn’t: the Heydrich was an uncompromising and brutal weapon of war, line and aesthetics having been sacrificed for strength, power and stealth. Yeah … stealth. With only the huge double-gunned turret, the smokestack and the pilothouse Worden was currently occupying standing proud of the deck, the Heydrich was almost invisible to attacking warships.
Worden took a look along the length of his ship, checking that all was as it should be. Satisfied, he picked up a megaphone and shouted to the group of tars standing ready by the hawsers tethering the Heydrich to the two troop-transport barges he was responsible for towing safe across the Volga.
‘Are the barges secure, Midshipman?’
‘All secure, Comrade Captain.’
‘Then cast off.’ Worden didn’t pause to watch them carry out his order – they were good men who knew their business – instead he called down the speaker tube to his second-in-command sweating away in the fetid bowels of the Heydrich. ‘Full steam ahead, Mr May.’ He listened while his order echoed along the Heydrich
’s one-hundred-and-seventy-foot length to the engine room. The first indication Worden had that his order had been received was when the ship began to tremble as the engine’s two huge pistons began to reciprocate. Then the propeller bit and the Heydrich slid its massive thousand tons slowly – almost reluctantly – away from the dock. But barely had the warship got under way, barely had she picked up any momentum, when there was a huge tug from behind as the hawsers ran out of slack and the Heydrich took the first of the barges she was hauling under tow.
‘Battle stations. Close all watertight hatches and doors. Load guns.’
Hardly had the order been issued than all Hel was let loose. The noise of the pounding pistons of the Heydrich’s steam engines and the clanging of the hatches as they were slammed shut were as nothing to the shrieking, screaming, nerve-shredding howl that suddenly enveloped the Heydrich. Worden’s world seemed to explode in a twisting turmoil of fire and noise. All around the Monitor were ear-killing explosions and, as the Heydrich pitched and yawed, a deafened and bemused Worden flinched back as the armoured skin of the ship was peppered with shrapnel. There was a huge BANG and though the ship’s hull comprised two feet of oak and four inches of steel plate, the force of the explosion was such that he had the distinct impression that the walls of the ship bowed inwards. Worden was hurled against the side of the pilothouse and it was only by making a mad grab for the guard rail that he prevented himself tumbling down the stairwell into the innards of the ship. For several stunned seconds he lay on the deck before an instinctive sense of duty forced him to his feet and persuaded him to shove his head out of the observation porthole. The scene that greeted him was one of flaming carnage.
Rocket attack.
There had been whispered rumours within the SS that the Chinks were developing surface-to-surface rockets based on the design that had made life so dangerous for the ForthRight’s Zeppelins, but he had never imagined that they would be so powerful. The whole of St Petersburg docks seemed to have been reduced to a burning chaos, but worse, one of the rockets had struck the second of the two barges the Heydrich was towing, turning it into a floating bonfire. As he watched, he saw screaming soldiers, burning from head to foot, leaping into the river.